


in all your cracked perfection

by answerstobefound



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anxiety Attacks, F/F, F/M, Modern Era, Theatre
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-21 20:40:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7403269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/answerstobefound/pseuds/answerstobefound
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>prompt: “i was super pissed so i went to the gym even tho it’s really late at night so i was the only one there and i was at the punching bag listening to music and you surprised me by tapping me on the shoulder, holy shit i didn’t mean to punch you, i’m so sorry, but srsly why the hell would you sURPRISE SOMEONE WHO IS ANGRY AND PUNCHING THINGS” au</p>
<p>Or: Peggy is a detective with a tragic past, Angie is her ray of sunshine best friend, and everyone can see they're deeply in love with each other except for them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	in all your cracked perfection

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MayFairy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayFairy/gifts).



> so this was supposed to be really short and ended up being REALLY long, but what can ya do! peggy and angie deserve all the happiness in the world and 10,000 words with it
> 
> the title is from Clementine von Radics's "Mouthful of Forevers," which is so painfully cartinelli that i almost cried. i love them so so deeply that it hurts tbh
> 
> and, the idea of the webseries isn't something i made up, i saw it as a text post on tumblr by softsons, and thought that angie would absolutely adore it
> 
> ANYWAY this is also a birthday present for my platonic soulmate, MayFairy! happy birthday, lovely!! you deserve all the happiness in the world, just like peggy and angie <3
> 
> enjoy, my pals :)

****If one more man at that precinct– _one more man–_ called Peggy “darling” or “dollface” or “sweetheart,” she really was going to shoot one of them. And she would _enjoy_ it. She would enjoy pulling out her gun with a steady hand, pulling the trigger, and watching the men who insult and degrade her every day fall to the ground with a thud.

 

However, shooting misogynistic, old, white, male police officers would definitely be frowned upon, especially seeing as Peggy had only made detective a few months ago. So, Peggy resorted to hitting the gym every night after she got off, blasting Nicki Minaj while she beat the tar out of a punching bag, and then stopping by the quaint little 1940s style diner, the L&L Automat, between the gym and her apartment for a slice of cake on the way home. It was an alright substitute for first degree murder.

 

On one particular occasion, Peggy had ended the day especially late, due to being sent on a wild goose chase for a series of leads which were obviously useless and had taken up far too much of her afternoon and evening. She'd then had to write up the paperwork for the day, leading to her not being able to leave the precinct until close to ten PM. She'd just barely missed the subway and instead decided to walk to the gym, hoping the fresh air would do her some good, but all it had done was make Peggy's feet ache. It was almost eleven PM by the time Peggy got to the gym, which meant that, if she had enough energy to stop by the L&L on the way home, her favorite waitress, Angie, would already be gone by the time she got there.

 

With a heavy sigh, Peggy changed into her workout clothing and made her way into the large room which held her blessed punching bags, Peggy was tired, angry, aching, and _bitter_. And she really needed to hit something.

 

So, Peggy turned the volume on her iPod up higher than she should have, waited for the opening of _Anaconda_ to come on, then sent a whopping punch into the solid black bag in front of her.

 

Peggy had _Anaconda_ on repeat, so she wasn't sure how much time had passed by the point she started to relax and not feel quite so murderous. She was surely drenched in sweat, absolutely disgusting, when she felt two fingers tap her shoulder. Startled and vaguely panicked, as her music was turned up too loud to have heard the person approach her, Peggy acted on a split second instinct and turned around with a punch.

 

Peggy only realized what she'd done when she saw a young woman in an old fashioned waitress uniform laying on the mat, clutching her nose.

 

“Shit,” Peggy yanked her headphones out of her ears, threw her iPod to the floor behind her, and knelt down next to the woman whom she had just carelessly struck. “ _Shit,_ I'm _so_ sorry, oh my god. Are you alright?”

 

It only took Peggy a second to realize whom she had hit.

 

“Wha– Angie?” Peggy had punched her favorite waitress. Plus, Peggy would admit to very few people that she had a small infatuation on Angie, though they'd never had the chance to talk enough for Peggy to be able to intelligently justify her little crush. Peggy had punched her favorite waitress whom she had a crush on. Wonderful.

 

“You sure can pack a punch, huh, English?” Angie let out a small laugh as she sat up. Blood oozed down her face and onto her yellow and blue uniform.

 

“Angie, are you alright?” Peggy put a hand to Angie's back and guided her to stand up.

 

“Yeah, English, I'm fine! Chill out.”

 

“Okay. Good. What the hell were you thinking, sneaking up on me?” Peggy realized that she really wasn't in any position to be the indignant one. Nonetheless, she just couldn't help it.

 

“In hindsight, not the best idea I've had all week. I didn't think you'd sock it to me though!” Angie briefly let go of her still bleeding nose to prove her point, and Peggy immediately calmed down. She took a step closer to Angie and quietly sighed with relief when the waitress didn't back away from her.

 

“Let me see how bad it is,” Peggy requested. When Angie didn't immediately remove her hand from her nose, Peggy widened her eyes slightly. “Please, Angie?”

 

Angie huffed and let her hand fall. Peggy spent a few moments inspecting Angie's nose before she came to a decision.

 

“It's not broken, thank god, just bruised. I'd never forgive myself for–”

 

“English, seriously, chill the fuck out, I've got brothers who've hit me harder than that. Besides, you could kick me and I'd say thanks.”

 

Peggy rolled her eyes with a small chuckle. “Well, the least I can do is help you clean up, and not in a disgusting gym locker room. Come back to my flat. I live nearby.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. If ya wanted to get me back to your place, ya didn't have to punch me, English. Coulda just asked.” Angie sent a wink Peggy's way to let her know she was kidding, but Peggy's heart skipped a beat anyway. They made a brief stop by the locker room to pick up Peggy's bag– she didn't bother changing out of her workout clothing, even though the sweat was starting to dry on her, because she didn't want to waste any time– before they were on their way, speed-walking through the hot June night.

 

The two women were halfway back to Peggy's apartment and had just passed the L&L when a thought came to Peggy.

 

“Hold on, Angie,” Peggy placed a hand on Angie's arm but didn't stop walking, “you should have got off work before I even arrived at the gym. Why were you there in the first place?”

 

Peggy could have sworn she saw Angie blush, even under the shoddy streetlights and neon signs. “You always come to the automat after your shift at the precinct.” That Angie had memorized Peggy's usual nightly schedule sent a pleasant thrill through the Englishwoman. “Ya mentioned that you hit the gym after work every day, and that gym was the only one near the L&L and wasn't sketch as hell– hey, rhymes! Anyway–” Angie shrugged, “I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

 

Peggy smiled. “Angie, that's… that's very sweet of you.”

 

“Yeah, well, English, you're one of the only ones that comes in there and doesn't pinch my ass when I turn around, so I miss ya when you're gone.”

 

Peggy was saved from replying by their arrival at her apartment building.

 

* * *

 

 

In Peggy's flat, Angie perched herself on the kitchen counter with an ice pack to her nose. Peggy fetched the first aid kit. By the time Peggy finally managed to locate the kit, plus a few towels, and return to Angie, the woman in question was already starting to fall asleep, slightly hunched over on Peggy's countertop.

 

Peggy tapped Angie's knee lightly. “Angie. Wake up. I need to get you cleaned up before you can go to sleep.”

 

“Mmm fine.” Angie blinked hard and sat up straighter.

 

Peggy started by quickly wiping away the blood that had dried on Angie's neck, chin, and mouth, then moved to lightly dab at the blood around her bruised nose. Peggy braced herself by keep her free hand between Angie's shoulder blades. She hoped to god that Angie didn't know how hard her heart was beating.

 

“Thanks for doin' this, Peggy,” Angie murmured around the wet, bloody towel. Her eyes drooped closed, unable to fight her tiredness anymore.

 

“Seeing as I'm the one who nearly broke your nose,” Peggy noted, “it's only fair that I should be the one to clean you up.”

 

“Not a lotta people are that _gallant_ , English. 'Sides, I've had worse 'n cleaned m'self up before. We almost done? I'm getting real' sleepy and I still need to get my ass home.”

 

“Nonsense, you'll stay here tonight. I'm not letting you out of my sight with your nose.”

 

Angie's eyes finally opened. “Aw, English, ya don't have to. I don't wanna put you to any trouble.”  
  
“It's no trouble, Angie.” Peggy stepped back, satisfied with her work.

 

“Well, in that case,” Angie hopped off the counter and flashed a quick smile at Peggy before grimacing, “mind if I borrow your shower? Been feelin' kinda gross since some bozo dumped cold coffee on my legs this morning.”

 

“Be my guest. The shower's in the bathroom attached to my bedroom. Last door on the left, down the hall.” Peggy started to clean up the bloody towels and remembered the blood on Angie's uniform. “Oh! Angie!”

 

Halfway down the hall already, Angie turned back around with a flourish and a small smile.

 

“If you leave your uniform on my bed,” Peggy offered, “I can get the blood out while you're in the shower.”

 

“Aw, thanks, English!” As Angie walked down the rest of the hallway, Peggy saw her start to unbutton her uniform. With a blush, Peggy turned back to her work cleaning up the kitchen. She waited until she heard the bathroom door shut and the shower start before she ventured into her bedroom to get Angie's uniform.

 

* * *

 

 

Peggy decided to let the uniform soak overnight, since the blood had set so deeply, and then dry it quickly in the morning. In the meantime, Peggy made a quick cup of tea and lounged on the couch, waiting for Angie.

 

Angie stumbled back into the kitchen, half asleep, wrapped in one of Peggy's towels and nothing else, fifteen minutes later.

 

“Say, English, you got some clothes I can borrow?” Angie asked, running a hand through her already blow-dried hair.

 

“Yes, of course.” Peggy shot up and led the younger woman back into her bedroom. Peggy rummaged around in her chest of drawers for a moment before pulling out her old police academy tee shirt, sleep shorts, and an old pair of underwear which Peggy hadn't worn in multiple months. Angie was a fair bit less around the hips and bust than Peggy was, but Peggy hoped her choices would fit well enough.

 

Peggy handed them over with a quick smile. Angie went into the bathroom to change and was out a minute later, falling dramatically across Peggy's bed.

 

“I'm _sooooo_ tired, ugh.” Angie threw a hand across her eyes and groaned for a moment before she stood up again. “I'm gonna take your couch, 'kay, English?”

 

“Angie, you'll take my bed. I can sleep on the couch.” Peggy was so tired that she could sleep on the kitchen floor by that point.

 

“ _No,_ I'm not gonna steal your bed. You've got work in the morning, and your work is way more important than mine.”

 

“Angie–”

 

“Okay, how 'bout we just share? We're just gonna argue 'bout it til dawn if we don't.”

 

Peggy nodded once. “Alright. You get some sleep. I'm going to shower.”

 

Angie fell backwards onto the bed again, burrowed under the covers, and curled up into a ball. “Works for me.” Her statement was punctuated with a yawn.

 

Peggy laughed quietly and shut the bathroom door behind her.

 

* * *

 

 

Twenty minutes later, Peggy was washed, dried, and in bed beside Angie. She tried to move as little as possible so as not to wake Angie.

 

“Your bed's real' comfy, English. Sleep tight.”

 

“Hm. You too, Angie.”

 

* * *

 

 

Angie Martinelli did not expect to wake up at half past six in the morning in a strange bed, but she'd woken up in weirder places before. Plus, it only took her a minute to remember what had happened the previous night and majorly relax. Angie rubbed at her eyes blearily and blindly felt around her for any signs of her favorite customer who had so nicely punched her in the face and then cleaned her up the previous night.

 

No sign of her. Angie sighed.

 

However, an old tee shirt laid crumpled on the floor and Angie could hear footsteps in the distance, so she figured that Peggy was already dressed and getting ready for work.

 

Angie sat up and climbed out of Peggy's very comfortable bed, groaning all the way. She padded into the kitchen to find Peggy standing at the counter, eating a bowl of cereal. She was dressed in dark slacks and a short-sleeved red button-up blouse which showed off her _very_ muscled arms. Angie gulped. Peggy turned around and smiled.

 

“Angie! I was going to let you sleep in.” She continued shoveling cereal into her mouth. Angie had to fight a smile when a little bit of milk ran down Peggy's chin before she wiped it away with her thumb.

 

Angie took a seat on one of the two stools at the counter, on the opposite side from Peggy. “No need, English, I gotta get home anyway. Gotta run some lines before an audition this afternoon. Lucky I was only gonna take the last shift today anyway, huh? I really don't feel like going into work this morning. Having to deal with those greasy guys that come in and try to grab my ass is _not_ good for getting in my audition zone. Aaaand I'm rambling. Sorry.”

 

“It's no problem, Angie. You got the audition?” Peggy asked with genuine enthusiasm. It warmed Angie's heart, it really did, that a big shot cop like Peggy would be excited for little ol' waitress Angie's possible acting gig.

 

“Yeah! It's a li'l theater, not even off Broadway– more like off-off Broadway, or off-off-off Broadway– anyway! I need to practice my lines for the audition because I _really_ need this role. The money I got from my web series ain't gonna last me much longer, especially with the crappy way people have been tipping lately.”

 

“You did a web series?” Peggy's eyebrows went up her forehead.

 

Angie grinned. “Yeah, we filmed it a couple months ago, and now it's airing twice a week on YouTube. Didn't I tell ya? Modern remake of _Pride & Prejudice, _but we didn't rip off _The Lizzie Bennet Diaries_ or nothing. Mostly the same plot as the book, but Darcy and Elizabeth are both girls, and Darcy's from a real' homophobic family. So, ya know, _prejudice._ And everybody's still prideful too. I played Lydia.” Man, she'd loved filming that, even if it had been six hellish days of fifteen hour a day work, she'd had a lot of fun and gained a fair bit of recognition from the few episodes that had already aired. She was already gaining like a hundred Twitter followers a day!

 

Peggy's eyebrows went higher, if possible, but her smiled stayed on. “That sounds lovely! I'll be sure to look it up.” Peggy finished off her cereal, dropped the bowl in the sink, and looked down at the watch on her wrist. “Shit, I've got to run. Let me get you an extra key,” she started looking around in one of the drawers under the counter, “you can stay, have breakfast, whatever you like, then just lock up when you leave.” Peggy pulled out the key with a triumphant smile and handed it over to Angie. “I'll most likely be by the automat tonight and you can give it back to me then.”

 

Angie took the key with a smile and tried to ignore the way her flesh tingled where her hand had met Peggy's. “Thanks, English, I owe ya one.”

 

“You most certainly do not,” Peggy gave her a stern look as she sat down on the couch and pulled a pair of sturdy black boots seemingly out of nowhere or possibly from under the coffee table. “If anything, I owe you.”

 

Angie rolled her eyes and scoffed.

 

“No, seriously, Angie. I _punched_ you, and I feel very badly about that. Speaking of–” Peggy zipped up her boots and came to stand in front of Angie. She very gently poked and prodded the purplish bruise that covered Angie's nose and the surrounding area. Angie winced, but it didn't hurt as badly as it could have.

 

“You should be right as rain in a week or two. I was off guard, otherwise your nose would definitely be broken.”

 

“Remind me to catch you off guard more often then,” Angie replied. “Now, go on, English, ya don't wanna be late for work.”

 

“You're absolutely right.” Peggy agreed with a nod. She quickly and perfectly applied a layer of blood red lipstick using a tube she'd pulled from her purse and her shiny toaster as a mirror, tossed the lipstick, her phone, and her keys into her purse, and finally sent a quick smile at Angie. “I'll see you tonight, hopefully. Call me if,” she motioned to Angie's nose, “that starts acting up. I really am so sorry, Angie.”

 

“English, it's fine,” she called after Peggy as the woman started backing towards the door. “If it'll make ya feel better, I'll think of somethin' you can do to make it up to me, alright?”

 

“Perfect. I look forward to it. Oh! And your uniform is in the dryer. See you later, Angie!” Peggy ducked out of the door, shooting one last smile at Angie as she did so. Angie heard her footsteps take off down the hallway, running to catch the elevator.

 

Angie sighed and looked around the apartment. It'd be kinda weird to hang around in the apartment of a lady she barely knew, a lady she had a lil bit of a crush on who she barely knew; so Angie resolved to steal some eggs and toast and get the hell out of there as fast as possible.

 

* * *

 

 

Peggy skipped the gym and went straight to the L&L after work that night, too tired to work out the day's anger with exercise. She barely made it to her favorite stool at the bar before collapsing with a groan. Angie was in front of her a beat later, leaning her elbows on the counter.

 

“'Sup, English,” Angie grinned. “How was your day?”

 

“Awful.” Peggy laid her head down on the cool countertop, grease be damned.

 

Angie leaned over the counter to rub Peggy's back for a moment before righting herself. “Wanna talk about it?”

 

“Nothing out of the ordinary, really,” Peggy replied as she sat up. “They're all misogynistic aresholes who think they can boss me around.” Peggy scoffed bitterly. “I've done more in the last six years of my career than they have in the twenty years of theirs.”

 

“Ya gotta tell me about all that stuff you've done sometime,” Angie said with a grin, though she became more serious when she saw how Peggy's eyes dropped. She changed the topic quickly. “Oh, English, I thought of a way you can pay me back for knockin' me out.”

 

“How's that?” Peggy asked with a small smile.

 

“You can help me with my lines for my upcoming performance. I got the part!” Angie threw her hands up, glare from the cook be damned.

 

Peggy's face lit up immediately. “Angie, that's fantastic!” The two women met over the counter for a quick hug. “I'd be happy to help in any way I can.”

 

“Well, you can start by giving me a list of what days you have off in the next four months.” Angie grinned and wiggled her eyebrows at Peggy, who laughed quietly and pulled out her phone to access her calender.

 

* * *

 

 

Peggy spent every single off-day she had in Angie's tiny one room apartment at The Griffith, a women's-only apartment building which was designed like something right out of the 1940s. The woman who ran it certainly thought it was the '40s, seeing all the rules and regulations her establishment upheld. Apparently, Angie was one more broken curfew away from getting evicted, which was one quarter hilarious and three quarters completely unfair.

 

By the fourth in a series of Saturdays Peggy had spent with Angie, lounging on her bed while Angie paced back and forth across the room, Peggy was starting to go a little insane. Her small infatuation had turned into a full-blown crush, butterflies in her stomach and all, and she felt like a silly schoolgirl, mooning after one of her only friends.

 

So, after returning home that night, Peggy did exactly what she always did when she was confused or frustrated: she called her best friend.

 

Edwin Jarvis picked up on the second ring. “Peggy! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

 

Peggy sighed happily at the familiar sound of his voice. Jarvis, as she had lovingly called him since they'd met as teenagers at boarding school, had moved to Los Angeles a few months ago, following their other best friend Howard. If he didn't follow, Jarvis had explained, Howard would inevitably get himself into loads of trouble and probably be jailed for a decade. They'd known Howard since their second to last year of boarding school, when he'd transferred in after a mishap at his previous school in America and been shipped off to England as a punishment of sorts, and Howard was always the one that effortlessly got himself into messy situations. The amount of times that Jarvis or Peggy had had to cover for him to the headmaster or bail him out of jail couldn't be counted. The only good thing that came out of the move was Jarvis meeting a lovely girl named Ana, whom he wouldn't stop gushing about if prompted. Either way, Peggy would've really liked her best friend back, but she'd settle for phone and Skype calls at the moment.

 

“I can't take this any longer, Jarvis,” Peggy sighed, a hand to her forehead. “I'm going to go insane. This little _crush_ is out of control.”

 

“Would this be an appropriate time to quote Howard and call you a, _ahem_ , bisexual disaster?” Jarvis asked primly.

 

Peggy's eyes rolled to the ceiling, but Jarvis's joke brought a smile to her lips against her will.

 

“Well, am I wrong?”

 

After a moment, Peggy replied, “No, you're not,” with a small laugh.

 

“So, what seems to be the exact problem with your crush on Miss Martinelli?”

 

“Jarvis, I'm acting like a _schoolgirl_. Everything she says has me giggling and blushing; I feel a fool. It's _embarrassing._ ”

 

“Oh, _Peggy._ You didn't act like a schoolgirl even when you were one, so that's not a particularly good analogy. _But_ ,” Jarvis continued before Peggy could interrupt him, “as I said when you called me last week, I would advise that the best thing for you to do is to deal with your feelings. Talk to Angie. Tell her how you feel. And if you refuse to do that, then, fine, continue as you are, but don't shut her out. Don't argue with me, I know that you shut people out because you think they're better off without you, which they _aren't._ We're all better off _with_ you.”

 

Peggy wasn't entirely sure how to respond to that. Jarvis didn't call her out often, but he was always painfully spot-on when he did.

 

Peggy huffed. “I suppose you're right. As usual.”

 

“Of course I am. Oh, hold on,” Peggy assumed that the rustling sound was Jarvis putting his hand over the speaker of the phone. She heard muffled voices for a minute before rustling again, then Jarvis's voice, “Peggy, I've got to go. Ana's home from work, and dinner isn't done yet.”

 

Peggy smiled fondly. Jarvis loved taking care of people. “Go on. Give Ana my love.” Despite having never met in person, Peggy had heard enough about Ana and spoken to her on Skype enough to already adore the girl.

 

“Will do.”

 

“And, Jarvis? Thank you.”

 

“Any time, Peggy.”

 

They hung up. Peggy tossed her phone onto her pillow and fell backwards onto her bed, taking a hand out of Angie's book and groaning dramatically about the state of her life.

 

* * *

 

On Peggy's next day off, a Sunday that time, she found herself in Angie's one-room flat again, with Angie's neighbor Dottie, a tall Iowan blonde with a permanent smirk on her face. Dottie had been recruited for the part of the pining boy next door, while Peggy had been given the role of the insolent little sister. Really, Peggy thought herself more suited for pining, but the role called for a “passionate kiss.” Thus, Peggy was infinitely glad that she got to lounge on Angie's bed with an arm thrown over her face, rather than spend the afternoon having to school her features and not blush every time the kiss came up.

 

“Uuuugggggghh.” Angie slumped over, frustrated again with her own performance. She stalked back over to the window to peer wistfully at the street below. Having done this countless times already, Dottie made her way back to Angie's vanity, which she perched on the edge of.

 

The scene began again, with Peggy and Angie having an idle conversation to open before Dottie's pining teen boy burst in. They barely had to look at their copies of the script anymore, having basically memorized their lines after three hours of practice.

 

Soon enough came the dreaded part: Dottie rushed to Angie to pull her in for a kiss. The past hundred times they'd gone over the scene, Angie and Dottie had pecked quickly or stopped just short of kissing. This particular time, much to Peggy's shock, Dottie grabbed the back of Angie's neck and pulled her in for a deep kiss. Peggy could have sworn she saw some tongue.

 

After what had to be at least five seconds, Peggy cleared her throat and Angie pushed Dottie away, both of them laughing heartily. Peggy sat up, her eyes wide and what she hoped was a convincing amused smile on her face. For a second so short Peggy wasn't entirely sure it had happened, Dottie turned around to wink at Peggy before she yanked Angie in for one last smooch. Still laughing, Angie pushed Dottie away again.

 

“Dot, c'mon! I really gotta get these scene down! No foolin' around, ya gay nerd.” Angie met Peggy's gaze and rolled her eyes, a hand motioning to Dottie as if to say _ya see what I deal with, English?_

 

Peggy chuckled, though her eyes quickly turned to Dottie, who met Peggy's gaze with a cheeky grin and wiggling eyebrows. Peggy wondered if she might have a competitor for Angie's affections.

 

“Ang, I think we've done all we can for today,” Dottie put her hands on Angie's shoulders and smiled down at her. “We've been at it for hours, and you're already _really_ good.”

 

Angie sighed. “Alright.” She moved away from Dottie and held out a hand to pull Peggy up. Peggy took it and felt a rush of blood to her head after laying down for so long. Dottie moved to help steady the Brit, but Peggy held up a hand and shook her head.

 

“I'm fine,” Peggy inhaled deeply, then exhaled, “just a little lightheaded.”

 

“Well, whad'ya say we get some food in ya, English?” Angie offered. “There's a pizza place a block from here.”

 

“Sounds lovely, Angie! I'd love to.”

 

“You in, Iowa?” Angie looked over her shoulder at the blonde.

 

Dottie grinned. “Yeah, sure, why not.” Her eyes flickered down for a moment, and her grin turned to a smirk. Peggy and Angie looked down simultaneously and realized that they were still holding hands. They both let go as if burned; Dottie's smirk grew.

 

Angie put her hands on her hips. “I need to change out of my rehearsal clothes and into actual people clothes.” Without preamble, Angie started stripping off her clothing.

 

Peggy flushed crimson. She barely managed to mutter, “I'll just give you some privacy,” before she fled the room, with Dottie close behind her.

 

Dottie leaned against Angie's door, thrust her chest out slightly, and smiled in what was probably meant to be a menacing way.

 

“So,” Dottie began quietly, “you should ask Angie out.”

 

Peggy's blush deepened. “I beg your pardon?”

 

“Angie. You should ask her out.” Dottie pushed off the door to stand upright. “You like her, she likes you. Simple. Act on it.”

 

“Dottie, we've met twice before this. You barely know me, and I– I don't–”

 

“Yeah, you do. It's obvious to anyone with eyes. Or call it gaydar, whatever.” Dottie shrugged. “But you wanna be the one kissing her. So kiss her.”

 

Peggy floundered. “Dottie, it's not that simple, I'm–”

 

“Pegs, there's nothing simpler.” Dottie took a step towards Peggy and kissed her quickly enough to move to the side before Peggy could react. “Ask her out. I'd say _or I will_ , but Angie and I used to fuck, and I'm over that. And, TBH, she's head over heels for you. It's annoying as fuck. She literally never shuts up about you. So, ya know, do something about that _please._ ”

 

Angie flung the door open then, dressed in cut-off shorts and a sleeveless button-up blouse, and grinned at Dottie and Peggy, the latter of whom was still reeling from all the information that Dottie had tossed at her.

 

“You ready?” Angie asked over her shoulder as she locked her door.

 

“Yep!” Dottie smirked at Peggy, pinched her arm, nodded towards Angie, and winked exaggeratedly. Peggy rolled her eyes and swatted the blonde's hand away, despite her pounding heart.

 

“Cool, let's go! I'm so hungry I could eat a whole pizza.” Angie slung one arm around Dottie's shoulder and the other around Peggy's. Peggy resisted the subconscious urge to wrap her arm around Angie's waist, but Dottie clearly didn't, as her fingers brushed Peggy's waist often.

 

Peggy took a deep breath, steeled herself, and prepared for an evening of desperately trying to control the madness that her life had turned into after developing a crush on Angie Martinelli.

 

* * *

 

Peggy spent much of her miniscule amounts of free time in the next week on the phone: occasionally to Howard, but most of his advice involved either sky-writing, ludicrously expensive “grand gestures,” or kidnapping, none of which were helpful for anything except making Peggy laugh; thus, Peggy mostly spoke to Jarvis.

 

Seeing as how Howard had the memory of a goldfish when it came to anything but his work, this is how Peggy found out that Howard would be attended a gala in New York City at the end of the week, and that Jarvis and Ana would be coming along.

 

Two excited phone calls a day and four days later, Peggy found herself standing in the arrivals area of LaGuardia on a Friday mid-morning, barely containing herself from bouncing on her heels. Angie stood beside her, holding a poster she'd made herself which read “PEGGY'S BOYS (AND ANA)” in gold glitter.

 

Right on time, Howard strutted into view, followed by Jarvis, pulling both his suitcase and Howard's, and Ana close behind him. Peggy couldn't contain a beaming smile from breaking out on her face, especially when Howard decided to stop trying to look cool and ran the final fifteen feet towards Peggy to hug her tightly. In turn, Peggy wrapped her arms around his torso and briefly let her head rest on his shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent of his cologne.

 

After around five seconds, Howard stepped back, apparently having had his fill of emotions for the day. He clapped Peggy's shoulder and smiled crookedly at her.

 

“Missed ya, Pegs,” he said quietly.

 

Peggy grinned at him. “Much as I loathe to admit it, I missed you too.”

 

“Ha! I knew ya would. Didn't I say, Jarvis?” Howard asked as Jarvis and Ana caught up with them. “Didn't I tell ya that she'd miss me?”

 

“You did indeed,” Jarvis inclined his head towards Howard before turning to Peggy and smiling at her. Jarvis tried to escape with only a quick cheek kiss, but Peggy grabbed him for a tight hug. Jarvis hugged her back for a moment before he started wiggling uncomfortably in Peggy's arms. Peggy squeezed him once more while Jarvis patted her back awkwardly before she let him go. Jarvis cleared his throat as he stepped back and attempted to regain his composure.

 

Jarvis opened his mouth to speak, paused for a moment, then continued, “Peggy, I'd like to officially introduce you to my girlfriend, Ana. Ana, my best friend, Peggy Carter.” Upon hearing her own name, Ana stepped away from Angie, whom she'd been having a quiet conversation with, and towards Peggy to hug her.

 

“He's so formal,” Ana laughed before stepping back. “It's so lovely to finally meet you, Peggy.”

 

“And you, Ana,” Peggy smiled. “Thank you for looking after Jarvis while he's on the opposite side of the continent from me.”

 

“Oh, it's my pleas–”

 

“Okay, kids, that's enough emotions and small talk for my taste,” Howard interrupted. Ana and Peggy exchanged long-suffering but amused looks. Despite having not been officially introduced, Angie took the initiative to smack Howard upside the head. While everyone else laughed, Howard turned to Angie with an indignant expression, ready to fight back, but Angie darted behind Peggy and used her as a human shield.

 

“Problem?” Peggy inquired innocently, trying to control her breathing as Angie rested her chin on Peggy's shoulder. Peggy could feel Angie's breath on her skin and Angie's fingers dancing around her waist and desperately wanted the ground to swallow her whole.

 

“Nope. Everything's cool, Pegs,” Howard backed down immediately. He turned to Jarvis and cleared his throat. “Ready to go?”

 

“Absolutely,” Jarvis nodded once. “Lead the way, Howard.”

 

Howard turned his chin up and began strutting out of the airport, expecting everyone to follow him like they were his posse. Peggy rolled her eyes fondly and followed him out. Angie walked beside her, keeping an arm around her waist the whole time, similar to the way Ana kept an arm around Jarvis's waist. This similarity was not lost on Peggy as they made their way out of the airport, but she disregarded it for her own mental stability.

 

* * *

 

 

Howard, Jarvis, and Ana arrived a few hours before their check-in time, so the group returned to Peggy's apartment. Howard immediately commandeered Peggy's bed and fell into a deep sleep. After a few hours of catching up, Peggy and Jarvis inhaling multiple pots of tea, Angie and Ana teaming up to tease Peggy and Jarvis about their Britishness, a few tales from Ana about her childhood in Hungary, and the four of them desperately trying to put up with Howard's snoring, eventually Jarvis suggested that they go out to lunch… on Howard's dime, of course.

 

Jarvis played the chauffeur while the three women sat in the back of the rented towncar, put on very posh accents, and pretended they were high society women being driven to the lunch with the Queen, laughing with abandon the whole time. Even Jarvis cracked a smile.

 

Jarvis took the girls to an upscale restaurant which was full upon arrival, but after a casual mention of the Stark name, they were immediately seated, given complimentary drinks, and had their order taken quickly.

 

“So, Angie,” Ana smiled and leaned toward the American, “I heard that you're in a theater production at the moment?” Angie nodded vigorously, unable to speak with a mouthful of breadsticks. Ana, bless her, asked for more information, and Angie launched into a detailed description of the entire plotline, every song, and all of the choreography which took up much of the meal.

 

Jarvis used this time to quietly inquire into Peggy's romantic life, much to her embarrassment.

 

“I see you _still_ have not informed Miss Martinelli of your feelings,” Jarvis whispered.

 

Peggy cursed herself for blushing, but there's no way Angie would notice anything around her with the intensity with which she discussed her musical.

 

“ _No_ , I have _not_ and _will_ not,” Peggy replied firmly. “We're friends, and nothing more. And I wish everyone else would realize this.”

 

“Everyone else?” Jarvis's eyebrows rose. “I wasn't aware that anyone else had discussed this topic with you.”

 

Peggy puffed her cheeks out and exhaled. “Angie's neighbor may have… mentioned it.”

 

“Hm. Does that not sound like a sign to you?”

 

“No,” Peggy snapped, “it sounds like a lot of people are digging around in my private affairs.”

 

Jarvis sat up straighter and didn't reply. Peggy sighed.

 

“Oh, Jarvis, I'm sorry,” Peggy put a hand on Jarvis's forearm and squeezed. “That was rude of me.”

 

“I'm only attempting to help,” Jarvis said quietly. “You do have a tendency to isolate yours–”

 

“Yes, I'm aware. I'll… I'll consider it, alright?” Peggy smiled reassuringly, and Jarvis returned a smile of his own.

 

“Excellent.”

 

“What's got you two all secretive?” Ana asked with a laugh. Apparently, Angie had finished outlining the entire production, just in time for their food to arrive.

 

“Nothing,” Peggy and Jarvis replied simultaneously, sending Angie and Ana into giggles.

 

The conversation during their meal was kept far away from anything covering a romantic topic: Howard's recent exploits, Ana's work as a fashion designer's assistant, Angie's tales of mishaps on set, and the few funny moments from Peggy's last few weeks in the precinct, which mostly involved her boss, Captain Thompson, making an arse of himself and thus making Peggy laugh.

 

Throughout the whole lunch, however, Angie seemed to make a habit of casually touching Peggy. A pat to her knee, nudging her with an elbow, and at one point even wiping a bit of sauce from the corner of Peggy's mouth with her thumb. At that, Jarvis and Ana had exchanged a significant look, and Peggy could have throttled the both of them.

 

A waitress came to collect their plates as soon as they'd finished, at which time Angie asked for a refill of their breadsticks.

 

When she was met with incredulous looks from Peggy, Jarvis, and Ana, Angie shrugged and said, “they're free and I have a food compartment in my purse.” Jarvis was startled by that information, but Peggy simply nodded, having been through this situation before, and Ana seemed very curious.

 

The breadsticks were brought with the check, the latter of which Jarvis took care of with Howard's credit card. Angie casually picked up the basket, opened her purse, and dumped the steaming breadsticks in. Ana laughed, completely delighted.

 

“Edwin, I need one,” she said, deadly seriously.

 

Jarvis sighed.

 

The waitress brought their check back to them quickly, then lingered with a smile. “Ya know,” she began, and everyone turned to her, “it's so nice to see that people still double date. You're both very cute couples. Have a great day.” She grinned and left as quickly as she'd come.

 

“Oh, we're not –” Peggy called after her, but was interrupted by Angie's yell, “Thank you!”

 

Peggy turned to her with raised eyebrows, but Angie only shrugged. “Easier to agree than contradict, English. 'Sides,” she leaned towards Peggy, her smile turning into a smirk, “I think we're pretty cute too.”

 

Peggy laughed, hoping to calm her nerves, and silently asked the gods why they insisted on playing with her as much as they did.

 

Jarvis stood first and helped Ana up in a handsome display of chivalry. Peggy took a note from him and did the same, holding a hand out for Angie to take. Angie grinned and stood, then failed to let Peggy's hand go as they left the restaurant.

 

Peggy sighed and steeled herself, her mind going a mile a minute. Ana wiggled her eyebrows at Peggy when Angie wasn't looking, and Peggy childishly stuck her tongue out in reply.

 

Was everyone conspiring against Peggy to drive her mad?

 

* * *

 

Howard, Jarvis, and Ana stayed in New York until Monday afternoon, and Peggy used up a few of her many accumulated sick days in order to spend as much time with them as possible. Of course, this meant that the sudden loss of their company came as a shock to Peggy. As the universe seemed to have something against Peggy, the day which followed Howard, Jarvis, and Ana's departure just so happened to be one of Peggy's Bad Days.

 

Peggy recognized that it would be a Bad Day from the minute she woke and felt the familiar cloudiness in her mind, along with racing thoughts and a queasy stomach. She immediately called in sick, actually sick and not “taking a relax day” sick, and Captain Thompson seemed extremely put out. After a quick text to her partner, Sousa, Peggy learned that they'd had a rather rough time trying to break the case in Peggy's absence. The petty part of Peggy was extremely happy about that.

 

Peggy dragged herself out of bed and took a quick shower with her iPod blasting her happy playlist, unable to be alone with her thoughts for more than a few minutes at a time for fear of letting them overtake her.

 

She left her hair to air dry, despite the fact that it would frizz and curl horribly, and forced a bowl of cereal down despite her lack of appetite, all the while still listening to music.

 

All of the awful things from Peggy's past descended upon her on Bad Days. All of the horrendous things she'd done or seen as part of the task force that had fast tracked her from rookie to detective, those long days and sleepless nights of deep cover and spying, and the people she'd lost over the course of the five years she'd been a key member of the task force.

 

The lengths the task force had gone to in order to complete their mission, to bring down one of the largest and most dangerous and prolific gangs in America, were top secret. Many Americans knew about the task force, just not the specifics of it. Thus, Peggy could not talk to anyone official about the effect the task force had had on her. No psychiatrist could legally take Peggy on as a patient if she wanted to talk out her time there.

 

Bad Days were restless days, where Peggy needed distraction at all costs if she wanted to stave off dwelling in her sadness and regret.

 

For that reason, Peggy tried reading, watching her favorite movies, listening to music, going back to sleep, but nothing could get her mind off of her past. Her thoughts treated her mind like a race track, and it was only a matter of time before one took a turn too quickly and crashed.

 

She wanted to call Angie, but knew that the younger woman was in rehearsals and did not need to be bothered by an anxious Brit.

 

However, the moment Peggy's iPod ran out of power, taking her happy playlist with it, was the exact moment Peggy knew she was royally fucked for the day. The mere thought of spending an hour lacking her comforting playlist sent all of her anxiety roaring to the forefront of her mind like the waves of a tsunami. Peggy dropped to the ground and shoved her hands through her hair, desperate to protect herself, as if the mental attack her memory waged on her was instead a physical one.

 

Peggy couldn't believe this was happening, she hadn't had a day this Bad in months and it just had to happen the day after her friends returned to the other side of the country the blasted huge country that was much too large for a girl like Peggy she should've gone back to England when she'd had the chance and she wouldn't be a bother anymore this too large country was too much for an ex-spy with anxiety problems it was too much it was too much it was toomuchitwastoomuchitwas

 

A panic attack, Peggy realized, a moment of clarity in the midst of the storm.

 

Peggy inhaled sharply and choked out an exhale. If she didn't control her breathing, she'd black out. She pressed her cold hands to her overheated cheeks in an attempt to calm down, but it didn't have much of any effect. This was the worst attack she'd had in a year, at least.

 

As black spots began to overtake her vision and her ears roared, Peggy saw but did not hear Angie casually walk through Peggy's front door, then promptly drop her rehearsal bag, purse, and phone and suddenly she was in front of Peggy. Angie's warm hands framed Peggy's face, gripped firmly. She spoke, and Peggy did not hear her but was able to focus enough to read her lips.

 

_English, breathe, you gotta breathe, okay, hon, you gotta_ , Angie said. Peggy nodded slowly.

 

Angie wrapped herself around Peggy and held the Brit securely, her arms just tight enough to be almost uncomfortable and to calm Peggy's breathing. Peggy clung to Angie, harshly grabbing at her back until she was able to get her fists into the thick, soft fabric of Angie's jacket. Peggy squeezed until her knuckles hurt, but she knew the fact that she could register that feeling was a good sign. Soon after, she realized that tears silently tracked their way down her cheeks.

 

Peggy's breathing normalized quickly, and she let her grip in Angie's jacket slacken. Upon regaining her hearing soon after that, the first thing Peggy registered was Angie's quiet, melodic muttering.

 

“Breathe for me, Peg, you'll be alright,” Angie murmured. “Ya just gotta breathe.” Over and over and over again. Peggy hummed her agreement, and Angie stopped.

 

“English?” Angie asked, almost disbelieving. She pulled back for a moment, then shot forward to hug Peggy tightly, which Peggy returned with equal force. “Shit, English. Ya had me scared there for a sec.”

 

Peggy nodded, unable to speak just yet.

 

“You had a panic attack.”

 

Peggy nodded again.

 

“You want somethin' cold or hot?”

 

Peggy searched for her voice. After a moment, she whispered, “Tea.” Angie grinned.

 

“Gotcha, Peg. You wanna stay here or come with me to the kitchen?”

 

“Kitchen.”

 

“Can you stand?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Angie nodded. She stood first, then held her hands out to pull Peggy up. Together, they slowly made their way to the kitchen, with Peggy shuffling, awkwardly leaning against Angie for support. Angie started to guide Peggy towards the stools at the counter, but Peggy went a different way, instead choosing to sink to the floor and lean against the base of the countertop for support, with her legs bent out in front of her. Angie nodded her understanding and went about quickly preparing a pot of tea.

 

Three minutes later, Angie joined Peggy on the floor and pressed a hot mug of tea into her hands. A few ice cubes floated at the top, quickly melting and cooling the tea to a drinkable temperature. Peggy pressed the mug to her chest and breathed in the comforting scent of black tea.

 

“You wanna talk about it, English?” Angie asked quietly.

 

After a moment, Peggy replied, “Can you help me up?”

 

Angie crouched, then put the hand not holding her own mug of tea to Peggy's back to support her as they both stood. Peggy slowly made her way back to the living room and sat down on the couch, one foot on the floor and one under her. Angie followed her and sat beside her, cross-legged and facing her.

 

Angie said nothing, waiting for Peggy to begin.

 

Peggy took a sip of her tea, then spoke. “I'm… having a Bad Day.” Angie nodded like she understood the way Peggy spoke in capitals. “A very difficult Bad Day.” Angie reached out slowly, giving Peggy time to pull away if she wanted, then laid a careful hand on Peggy's knee. Peggy put a hand on top of Angie's and smiled weakly.

 

Minding her words and what she was legally allowed to say, Peggy outlined her career thus far as a police officer for Angie. How she met a scrawny boy named Steve and his protective best friend Bucky in the police academy. How they were plucked out directly after graduation and assigned to a dangerous task force that was more spy work than police work. How close the entire team became. How they saw terrible things and committed terrible acts for the name of justice. How Peggy fell in love with little Steve, scrawny but courageous to a fault and too smart for his own good. Too kind. Too good. How Peggy lost Steve, and Bucky, and others, right before the task force succeeded in their mission and broke apart. How she could never adjust to regular life, even after she was fast-tracked to become a detective as a reward for her service. How those days and those people haunted Peggy, terribly and relentlessly, her guilt very quietly eating away at her.

 

Peggy was far more calm than she should have been after outlining the most traumatic years of her life for a girl who didn't need to be burdened with that. Angie had tears brimming in her eyes by the end, and her hand was tense on Peggy's knee.

 

“Pegs, have you considered talkin' to someone about this stuff?” Angie asked. Her thumb began to stroke slow circles on Peggy's knee. The small gesture helped to relax Peggy even more.

 

Peggy shook her head. “I can't. I shouldn't even be telling you this.”

 

“Well, you have now. So, you might as well just keeping talkin' to me.” Angie put her empty mug down and moved closer to Peggy. “Listen, Pegs… whenever things get really bad, and you get down, you call me. I'll come right over, and I'll help you.”

 

“Angie, I can't–”

 

“You already have.”

 

“–I'd be such a burden to you–”

 

“Peggy, _no,_ ” Angie leaned in, “you're not a burden. And– and none of what happened to you is your fault. You talk like you're guilty of somethin', but it sounds like you did the best ya could.”

 

Tears welled in Peggy's eyes again, but she had enough of a hold on her emotions to blink them away. She looked down so she didn't have to meet Angie's pleading brown eyes.

 

“Angie, I got them killed,” Peggy said quietly but firmly. “It's my fault and–”

 

“ _Peggy_ ,” Angie surged forward to grasp Peggy's shoulders, which jolted Peggy into looking up and meeting Angie's eyes, “listen to me. You did your best. You can't expect yourself to be some kind of– some kind of god, or somethin'. And you can't be alone. Talk to me. Talk to your friends, Ana and Jarvis– even Stark. We're here for you, and we're gonna support you, and you're _never_ a _burden._ We all love ya too much for you to ever be a burden to us.”

 

To punctuate her passionate speech, Angie pulled Peggy in for a tight hug.

 

Peggy was at a loss for words. All she could do was nod to Angie as her affection and love for the girl swelled inside her– affection and love which could not be contained any longer.

 

Peggy had to tell Angie how she felt.

 

* * *

 

Weeks passed after the Peggy's Bad Day, in which Angie had an intense rehearsal schedule but answered her phone any time Peggy called. Peggy threw herself into her work but remembered to take care of herself during that time, eating a healthy lunch and not just tagging along on the guys' hefty order of Chinese, ignoring the teasing and mocking of her disrespectful colleagues. She had regular Skype dates with Jarvis and Ana, which occasionally doubled as therapy sections.

 

Peggy wasn't going to isolate herself any longer. And it seemed that talking to people she trusted _really_ did help her.

 

Through the time following Peggy's panic attack– her last one for a long while, she hoped– Angie was a constant, and Peggy found her desire to reveal her feelings growing more and more, but there was never a good time– a perfect moment.

 

Thus, Peggy decided to bide her time. Wait for the perfect moment, because it _had_ to be perfect. This was her newest mission. Peggy was going to execute it flawlessly.

 

* * *

 

Angie's opening night was a sweltering September Friday, and she was _pumped._ She'd spent _months_ perfecting her part. And, yeah, it was a small-time play. Hella off Broadway. _But,_ there was always the possibility that it could lead to bigger, better things. That was how she'd got this far, wasn't it? She could go farther.

 

She'd gotten tickets for Peggy, of course, and basically her whole immediate family. Peggy told her that Mr. Fancy and his sweet li'l girlfriend were flying in for the show as well, which was _so frickin sweet of them_ that Angie almost cried.

 

Still.

 

Opening night.

 

Angie took the five days leading to opening night off from the L&L. She was gonna quit any day, honestly she was, and she didn't really care how much the manager hated her for it. She spent the days locked in her apartment, phone on silent, going over her lines. Dottie got her food for her. Left it on the doorstep for her, knocking twice to let her know it was there.

 

Rehearsal was from early afternoon to early evening, and everybody was let go early enough to get a good night's sleep. Angie got dinner with Dottie, ran lines with her for an hour or so, then finally checked her phone when she got in bed around nine.

 

Texts from Peggy, every night. Telling her how well she knew Angie would do, how much she believed in Angie, how proud she was.

 

_Proud_.

 

Angie's cheeks warmed when she read those texts. Five or six, every night, and Angie knew she was head over heels. But _man_ those texts gave her a little bit of hope. No best friend Angie had ever had believed in her like Peggy did, acted like Peggy did, hugged her like Peggy did.

 

Angie knew Peggy was bisexual, had listened to her rant about some ex-girlfriend from high school, held her while she cried about her boyfriend who died. Peggy was very bisexual so _maybe_ Angie had a chance, maybe she could make a move, maybe–

 

Maybe Angie valued Peggy's friendship too much to try anything.

 

And besides, she didn't need to worry about her amazing, beautiful best friend when she _needed_ to be resting before her play.

 

* * *

 

Angie's opening night ran like a dream, in Peggy's opinion. The audience laughed at all the moments Angie had told Peggy they should, and the ending was met with thunderous applause.

 

And Angie was a shining point throughout the show. Peggy couldn't take her eyes off of her. Not that that was any different from normal, but even more so. Peggy knew she didn't have the strength to keep her feelings a secret any longer, and she only hoped that, if Angie was to reject Peggy, that it wouldn't completely ruin the glorious night.

 

Peggy excused herself from where Angie's friends and family had congregated in the lobby to wait for her. She ignored the wink from Dottie and smiled politely in response to the encouraging grin from Ana, then made her way backstage. The stage manager recognized her from the rehearsals she'd accompanied Angie to and let her in without fuss. Peggy's heart pounded against her ribcage. Time passed strangely as she dodged actors dashing about, racks of clothing, and crew returning props, until suddenly she stood outside Angie's shared dressing room. Peggy took a few moments to go over the general idea of what she wanted to say in her head and steel herself. With a slightly shaking hand, she knocked.

 

The door flew open, and one of chorus girls stood before her. The girl turned and yelled, “Martinelli! Visitor!”

 

“Ugh!” Angie's distant voice scoffed. “I _did_ turn in all my props! Can't a girl get dressed before gettin' hounded by–” Angie finally appeared, and her posture softened when she realized that her visitor was her favorite Brit.

 

“Hey, Peg,” she smiled tiredly.

 

Peggy grinned in reply. “Hello, Angie. Who's been bothering you?”

 

“Sorry?”

 

“'Can't a girl get dressed before being hounded by…'?” Peggy quoted to Angie with raised eyebrows.

 

“Oh!” The answer dawned on Angie. “The prop master's always up my ass about making sure I've returned all my shit by the end of the night, and I always _do_ , but she never believes me because– oh, it doesn't matter. How was I, English?” Doubt passed over Angie's face.

 

Peggy reached out to briefly squeeze Angie's shoulder. “Angie, you were phenomenal. Truly. I've never seen a better performance in my life.”

 

Angie blushed and ducked her head. “Shut up, English. You talk too much.”

 

“It's true!” Peggy laughed. “You were amazing, Angie.”

 

Angie's blushed deepened. It took her a moment to look back up at Peggy. Angie bit her lip, and Peggy felt something heavy settle in her stomach. She took a deep breath and smiled softly at Angie.

 

Peggy began, “Angie, there's something I'd like to–” but before she could finish her sentence, Angie shot forward. In one motion, the American girl took Peggy's face in her hands, arched into Peggy to account for the height difference Peggy's heels provided, and brought their lips together.

 

Heat seared through Peggy, starting at her lips and settling in her ribs and in the back of her neck, like some magnificently dangerous combination of hot oil and fireworks. She shivered despite the heat. Peggy kissed back desperately, wrapping an arm around Angie's waist and slipping a hand around the back of Angie's neck. This was the point to which Peggy's life had been building, she was sure of that now. All of the suffering she'd endured was to bring her to one moment in time where she would kiss Angela Martinelli in a small hallway at the back of a theatre in New York. One moment, where all of her troubles and anxieties would flow out of her and only pure happiness and contentment would remain.

 

The kiss broke. The moment remained. Peggy and Angie smiled at each other, laughed together.

 

“What were ya gonna say, English?” Angie asked impishly as her hands slowly slid from Peggy's face to her upper arms.

 

Peggy laughed again, but she sobered before speaking. “I rather love you, Angie.”

 

Angie kissed Peggy twice more, so softly Peggy could have cried. “I love you too, Pegs. Are you sayin' that now, or is that what you were gonna say before I interrupted ya?”

 

“Both,” Peggy replied with a smile.

 

Angie squeezed Peggy's arms, kissed her again, then finally stepped back. “Gimme two minutes to get my stuff sorted and then I'm all yours, English.” At Peggy's nod, Angie stepped back into her dressing room and out of sight. Peggy leaned against the wall and sighed happily. She stayed there until Angie returned with her bag slung over her shoulder and her hair in a ponytail.

 

“Ready to go?” Peggy asked as she stood straight.

 

“Born ready, English,” Angie replied with a grin. She slipped her hand into Peggy's as they walked down the hall and towards the lobby, where everyone was waiting for them. Angie nudged Peggy with her shoulder, “think we could get away with sneakin' out the back and goin' back to your place to make out?”

 

Peggy's head tilted back as she laughed heartily. “I highly doubt it. Dottie knows I went to find you, and –”

 

“Yeah,” Angie interrupted with a sigh, “she wouldn't hesitate to rat me out to Ma. Damn. Rain check?”

 

Peggy smiled. “Absolutely.”

 

“Nice.” Angie squeezed Peggy's hand and beamed at her. Peggy grinned right back, almost confused at how blissfully happy such a little action made her.

 

Peggy stopped when the reached the door which lead to the lobby, wanting just a moment more with Angie alone.

 

“I love you,” Peggy whispered.

 

Angie smiled softly. She kissed Peggy twice: one long and searing that had them both stumbling, a pause, and then short and sweetly.

 

“I love you too, English.”

 

With a satisfied smile, Peggy pushed the door open, and the two women walked back to their friends and family, hand in hand.

 

**Author's Note:**

> *yells* I LOVE ANGIE AND PEGGY SO MUCH I COULD CRY
> 
> ANYWAY, i had so so so much fun writing this, and i hope reading it was just as much fun
> 
> pls leave kudos and/or a comment if you enjoyed it!


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